Don't Want To Watch You Cry
by jspencer1986
Summary: Quinn remembers the first time Santana climbed through her window in the middle of the night, and Santana ants something she doesn't think she can have.
1. Chapter 1

****This was only intended as a drabble, but the idea won't leave me alone so I may end up continuing.****

Quinn remembered the first time Santana climbed through her window in the middle of the night. She smelled like cigarettes and cheap beer, and hints of Puck's cologne. Tearstains marked her cheeks, though Santana would swear that was a lie.

The bed in Quinn's room would have easily slept three people but Santana stripped down to her underwear, stumbled over and slipped under the covers, clinging to Quinn like there was barely space for one. Soft hands stroked a mess of dark hair as sobs receded into slow, even breathing. It was moments like those that Quinn felt like she was seeing a part of Santana that nobody else knew.

In the morning she was gone. They didn't talk about it, and Quinn knew better than to bring it up.

Four nights later Santana was back in that same spot, smelling of beer and something a little sweeter, curled into Quinn's side and holding on as if letting go would mean the end of her. Only this time Quinn asked why.

When Santana looked up, it was with an expression that was unfamiliar. Under the glow of the moonlight filtering in through the window, Quinn saw her swallow hard and take a deep breath and suddenly all she knew was that Santana was kissing her. She felt the remnants of tears against her skin and all of the emotions Santana was going through in that moment, the love and the fear.

All too quickly the kiss was over, and Quinn opened her eyes to find Santana scrambling to put some distance between them. Still slow from the alcohol lingering in her system, she only managed to get as far as the edge of the bed before Quinn was behind her and clutching at her arm.

"Santana, wait," she pleaded. "It's okay."

Quinn could see her body shaking, wracked with silent cries, so she slid her arms around Santana's waist and rested her chin on her shoulder.

"Shh," she soothed, "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

Through her tears, Santana whispered, "This isn't who I wanted to be."

"I know," Quinn said, placing a gentle kiss on the side of Santana's neck, "but I love you. No matter what."


	2. Chapter 2

Santana awoke the next morning with the hangover from hell. Her head was pounding as if someone was drilling into her skull and the slightest movement made her feel like she was going to be sick. As her mind became more alert, she thanked her lucky stars it was a Saturday and that she didn't have school to worry about.

Cracking her eyes open as slowly as possible, she looked at the alarm clock. The big, red numbers showed 9:34, and as she grumbled to herself about how bright they were, she heard movement behind her.

"Hey," Quinn whispered as she padded into the room. She sat down on the edge of the bed, being mindful not to jostle Santana too much. She set a glass of water and some aspirin on the nightstand and asked softly, "Can you sit up?"

There was something inherently soothing about Quinn's voice and the light circles she'd begun to rub on Santana's back, and even though Santana still felt like she was dying a slow, horrible death, she pulled herself ever-so-gently up to sit against the head of the bed. Quinn let her hand fall away as Santana moved, and she picked up the water and aspirin to hand to her.

"I should let you get some more rest," Quinn said as Santana downed the painkillers. "I left a bucket by the bed in case you need to throw up and can't make it to the bathroom."

"Wait," Santana said, a hint of panic in her voice. Quinn looked at her expectantly. "What happened? Last night, I mean. I didn't…I mean, did I…"

Realising Santana's memory of what she'd done the night before was a little hazy, Quinn smiled and told her, "Nothing you should be worried about."

Santana's shoulders visibly relaxed and, almost as if she was embarrassed to say the words, she quietly asked Quinn to stay with her.

"Scoot down," Quinn said as she carefully climbed over to the other side of the bed. Without protest, Santana did as she was told. A moment later she felt Quinn's body against her back and an arm carefully finding its way over her side to softly rub her tummy.

Santana heard Quinn whisper 'is this okay?' against her ear, and barely mumbled out a satisfied noise before drifting back to sleep.


End file.
